


The 14th of February

by DarkPoisonousLove



Series: Dance of Devotion [3]
Category: Winx Club
Genre: (mostly skipped over though), (there are chocolates), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Celebrations, Condoms, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flowers, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Handcuffs, Insecurity, Restraints, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex, Valentine's Day, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPoisonousLove/pseuds/DarkPoisonousLove
Summary: It's the 14th of February–a day that celebrates romantic relationships–and Valtor's bravery is tested with the dilemma he's facing. Luckily for him, Griffin saves him when she's the one that calls him to arrange a meeting. There are more hurdles to be overcome, however, before the evening can be truly saved from the clutches of their insecurities trying to claw their way between them.
Relationships: Griffin/Valtor | Baltor (Winx Club)
Series: Dance of Devotion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800337
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The 14th of February

**Author's Note:**

> This happens just the week after chapter 1 of Ellipses. It was supposed to be a short extra but that failed so you get a long extra instead. Hope you'll like this little exploration of their relationship pre D/s dynamic.

Five o’clock. Almost time to leave the office and he still couldn’t come to terms with his dilemma.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to reach for the phone when it was just a few inches away taunting him with its proximity. It could connect him to Griffin if he just took it but that was far too much to demand from him if he couldn't even make himself say a few simple words. He couldn’t call her and make small talk when the thoughts in his head were all paralyzed in the trap of the date.

It was the 14th of February and he’d avoided going out to lunch lest all the hearts flooding every corner of the world sent his into overdrive, and with the wrong reaction, no less. His paperwork was about the only safe place he could find when Griffin wasn’t there and even that wasn’t working as it couldn’t consume his mind completely. It hung by the thread of anticipation that had his stomach closed off for any food while his palms sweat as if to make sure his hands would be free of his pen to pick up the phone in case it rang.

It had.

First, Bloom had called him to, ironically, ask for advice what to get Sky–considering the status of their relationship wasn’t all that clear–since, apparently, Oritel hadn’t been helpful and while Marion always had some good idea tucked in her sleeves for safe keeping and Stella had given her own wisdom, Bloom had wanted a man’s opinion. Or so she’d said. She’d just been snooping to see if he had plans and she hadn’t even been covert in her operation but it didn’t matter when it had left her–both of them–with disappointing results.

Then it had been Faragonda who’d called, not so much to meddle as much as to invite him to lunch since Hagen had somehow convinced her to take the day off but it looked like his own surprise had broken down somewhere on the road and had needed him to go to work on the one day Faragonda hadn’t. Valtor had had to refuse the offer but he’d still agreed to keep her company on the phone while Hagen could get back on track with his plan since his paperwork hadn’t been going well anyway and Faragonda at least could keep his mind from tearing itself apart when she’d promised not to prod into any of the questions the day was drawing attention to. He could get his documentation sorted out once his focus was released from the grip of the celebrations everywhere around him.

Lunch had been saved for Faragonda and Hagen, which had left him on his own with his personal problems, but Marion had shown up to see how he was doing on her own break and he’d truly appreciated the gesture even if it’d reminded him it was Thursday and his schedule was clear when he didn’t have a meeting with his friends arranged. Not that they wouldn't have canceled it or at least wrapped it up quickly if it had been Friday and still left him with nothing to fill the time that he was now free to spend with Griffin if he dared call her.

His fear to define their relationship had left him in a trap where not calling was risking to underestimate it and offend her and calling could be overestimating it, as ridiculous as that sounded. 

The few–practically whole–days they’d had together over the course of the past two and a half months would have left him wishing to call her still but after waking up to her kiss and her care wafting through his apartment tangled in the delicious smell of the breakfast she’d prepared for them, his fingers were itching to grab the phone. He’d had to satisfy himself with running them over his sheets that had only held her scent of plumeria for so long the past few days but now he had a reason to call her which was enough to drive him out of his chair and into pacing around his office like a madman. He’d hardly gathered the courage to call her when it had been just a normal interaction. Now with the weight of the celebration hanging over his head he couldn't even lift a finger under the threat of it falling on top of him and crushing him.

He paused so abruptly at the sound of his ringtone that all his thoughts tumbled out of his head with nothing to stop their momentum. Not even the cautiousness to turn slowly enough to prevent an injury to the neck was left as he whirled around, internally cursing his decision against setting up a different melody for Griffin so that he’d know that it was her calling.

Some rational part of him had insisted that that would just distract him when it was her and disappoint when it wasn’t and he didn’t need either. Plus, there’d been the hiss in the back of his mind that it would chase her away if she ever learned. Never mind that could hardly be called a possibility since it wasn’t Griffin that was the clingy one.

It was her name on the screen and he only allowed himself one inhale and exhale–just to make sure she wouldn’t hear his heartbeat through the phone or that he wouldn't sound like Darth Vader when all the breath his lungs were holding hostage finally managed to escape in a rush–to eliminate the threat of her hanging up before he’d finished his breathing exercises and was ready to answer his phone. If he couldn't even pick up when she was calling, then he was truly lost and hopeless.

“Hey,” Griffin’s voice greeted him as soon as the phone was next to his ear and he was glad he hadn’t taken more time to get it there as he would have missed the comforting sound that only got sweeter the more familiar it became.

“Hey,” he let himself mimic the casual greeting even though his mind was threatening to explode in his head if he didn’t let it fire half a dozen questions at her at the same time.

“How are you holding up on the work front?” Griffin asked in her typical fashion. Yet, the question still sounded caring every time when she’d spent quite a few hours on the phone with him trying to rectify the situation if the answer hadn’t pleased her. He’d almost asked about her phone bill that time he’d gone to pay his own and the few minutes he’d had to wait for service had brought back the memories of the evenings they’d talked through.

“It’s been a slow day,” he said, the sentiment true even if it could be misleading. It wouldn't have been so slow if he’d been able to work at a different speed.

“Well, I’ve had a pretty slow day as well,” Griffin said, nearly tipping him off balance as his brain tried to equate her words to his even when he knew they couldn't mean the same. “I thought we could see each other if you weren’t too busy or tired?” she asked, proving his brain was just messing with him. He could picture her sitting in an office chair with a smile on her face – quite like she’d looked every time they’d gone out and even at breakfast in his own apartment. She sure didn’t sound the way she had during their first meeting at the police station so he couldn't imagine her as anything but calm.

“You want to come over?” Valtor asked, finally finding his practiced composure, tough it almost managed to ruin itself with how convincing it was. He could only see through it since he was in his own head where the storm was so it was possible, after all, that Griffin was more like him than he’d thought. She’d certainly turned out to have a wicked mind when it came to comebacks even despite her kindness that he could never hope to mirror.

“Okay. But I’m cooking,” she said only to drown any thought he could have had in the images flooding his mind. She’d already been done with breakfast when he’d woken up on Sunday but he’d seen her expertise in the kitchen as she’d prepared lunch and even though he’d helped, the masterpiece that had ended up on his table had been her creation.

“I’m sorry, was I supposed to say no to that?” he asked, a theatrically scandalized note in his voice that could offend her if she misinterpreted his words but that was not a danger they were facing.

He could cook his own meals but it wasn’t hard to admit that she was better than him after the first time she’d given him some cookies she’d baked. She’d glowed at the praise he’d given her culinary skills – every time she’d presented him with the opportunity to do so, though he had a feeling that the last time had been both their favorite. Perhaps only with that time he’d shoved a cookie in his mouth to chew on while driving as a contender for the first place as her laugh had been so loud back then that his mind had emptied to give it more space to fill.

“A more relevant question is _could_ you say no to that?” she asked and he could definitely hear the smirk that hung in the air the words had cleared up for it. “See you there. Say, in a couple hours,” Griffin said and hung up before he could start pestering her for specifics even though he knew he would only end up checking the clock every minute if he had the information. It might have been exactly what she’d been trying to save him from although he’d never confessed to her that had been the case every time they’d had a meeting arranged.

He only needed a few minutes to leave the office as he’d already abandoned paperwork and there wasn’t really anything to finish with how little he’d worked on all day.

Now that he had some errands to run, he had to keep from speeding. Once he was out of the traffic jam, that was since, unfortunately, the term rush hour wasn’t correct when the phenomenon it marked extended past an hour which he proved as it took longer than that to get home. Granted, he’d had a few stops to make but he was sure he’d spent less time at all of them combined than he’d had in traffic.

Ironically, the choice of wine had taken him more time than any of his other purchases had even if he was most well-versed in that area out of all those he was tackling. And because he knew his wine, it was a bit of a challenge to pick the right one having in mind that he didn’t know what Griffin intended to cook. Technically, that was not an issue when she was just a call or text away but he’d wanted the wine to be a surprise.

Ultimately, he settled for Sauvignon Blanc. He deduced there was a big chance of her meal consisting of greens and vegetables as that was what she’d eaten every time they’d been to a restaurant. He also had a bottle or two of red wine at home in case he’d been off in his guess or she’d decided to cater to his tastes that leaned more towards a carnivorous diet like she’d done on Sunday.

Of course, yearning stares towards the clock weren’t completely abolished once he got home–and put the wine to cool off–but he was mostly too busy running various scenarios of how things would go through his mind to prepare himself for the worst–and the best, provided he could allow himself to imagine that–so the time was of little consequence. Especially when it couldn’t tell him how soon he’d see her.

The sound of a car was what drew him out of his own mind eventually–a quick glance to the clock showed that it had been longer than he’d noticed–but the only view he caught from his window was the back of a retreating taxi. Could have been any one of his neighbors–the notion backed up by her preference to use the bus–so he waited for the knock on his door.

And there she was. In his apartment even though he hadn’t had the guts to call her and taking the bouquet he’d gotten her–he hadn’t bought her flowers before but given her behavior when she saw some, he could tell they were a love of hers, and, hopefully, one it was appropriate to celebrate–after he helped her free herself from the paper bag she’d been carrying. It was quite heavy and would have piqued his interest if he hadn’t been looking for Griffin’s reaction which just left it forgotten in a chair.

“You don’t like them?” he was pushed to ask by the clear restraint in the smile she gave the bouquet and that worst scenario he’d imagined was zooming in closer and closer. It could be just that she didn’t like the flowers–or was even allergic to them which he hadn’t bothered to ask about–or was surprised by the gesture. By how much it overstepped in his assumptions about their relationship.

“No, I do,” Griffin was quick to reassure but not in an overly hasty way that would just create tension. “I love them,” she said and he liked to believe that she wouldn’t have used that strong a word if she hadn’t meant it. “I’m really curious where you got them since belladonna lily isn’t a typical choice for a bouquet.”

He couldn't help but smile at her knowledge of her plants. He’d recognized them as lilies combined with the white roses but Griffin had known the exact type. Something he’d had to rely on the florist–Vanessa, was it?–for after he’d offered as much as “not quite for a girlfriend”. He’d known the date was trouble and would get him some question of the sort but at least he’d avoided the hurricane that would've swept him away if he’d gone to Alyssa’s flower shop. Bloom would have certainly learned from Flora that he’d bought a bouquet for someone and would have pressed him to spill it all. And Oritel would have probably joined in as well despite Marion’s best efforts to hold them off from sticking their noses in his private life.

“It’s just...” Griffin pulled him away from the avoided catastrophe to the one he’d decided hadn’t existed only to be slapped in the face, “they’re going to wither away,” she said and the look she gave the flowers was almost sorrowful.

He was as stunned as he’d been the two times she’d kissed him on the cheek when he was staring at the same tenderness she’d displayed then even if it was accompanied by sadness. That was gentle, too, as it came from her and spoke of her kind nature. It only drew him closer in his desire to offer some comfort instead of leaving him scared of the negative feeling. Not after she’d shown him how soothing it could be to have your emotions shared by someone else.

“Next time you buy me flowers you should get them in a pot so that I can keep them alive and take care of them,” Griffin caught him off guard instead with the seriousness of her words that was coming through even in the playful tone. Or it might have been the fact that he was living out that best scenario he hadn’t let himself explore.

“Noted,” he said, doing his best to stay with the conversation instead of berating himself for the curt response that was all he could manage while processing her conformation that he hadn’t overestimated their relations. “Meanwhile, you can leave this here,” he said as he extended his hands towards her to take the bouquet and was relieved to see she still trusted him with the flowers and the care for them as she handed it to him. “They will be here to greet you on the weekend but you won’t have to see them wither away when the week comes,” he continued, relaxed enough to turn his back on her as he went to find a container for the bouquet.

He didn’t really have vases but he had a tall glass that was just big enough to fit the bouquet in it even with the wrapping paper. He hadn’t wanted it to be enormous, just something to show his appreciation.

“Assuming I will come on the weekend,” Griffin said, her tone just about teasing enough to spare him the need for reassurance that it was all a part of the banter routine they had mastered at this point. It had really become one of his favorite activities when he knew it was well-intentioned just as it was challenging in a much more pleasant way than his cases could prove to be.

“You always come,” he said, his smugness feeling misplaced next to the uncertainty whether he would've managed that sentence with a straight face if he’d been looking at her instead of filling with water the glass he’d fished out of a cupboard. Or that he would've managed it at all.

“I’ve hardly come once.”

That one sure had him whipping around to look at her and spilling the glass which had his attention back on it but, luckily, all the water managed to pour over was the sink. He’d have to refill his improvised vase, however.

“I’m pretty sure I counted at least four instances that fit the description,” he said, pretending to be engulfed in tending to the flowers and not the softness of her skin on his mind. That and the taste of her in his mouth while she’d shaken during her first of the three orgasms he’d given her the previous time she’d been in his apartment, the visit to which was what boosted his count up to four.

“Well, when you look at it that way,” Griffin conceded, untypically of her, while she was too busy faking contemplation. “Which I should have guessed from the naked-lady lilies.”

The what now?

“They also go by naked lilies,” she continued and he was glad he was finally done with the bouquet because he would destroy it if he clutched at it one more time like he’d done at her previous statement–he’d even thought he’d felt the thorns of the roses even though they weren’t supposed to have any. That or he’d break the glass.

He was all fired up to go and have a talk with that florist the next morning before he remembered she’d told him her flowers were running out. It also tied in with what Griffin had said about that kind of lilies not being used in bouquets often. No wonder considering they could be taken as a very misplaced message. Even if they were pretty together with the white roses they’d been arranged with. He had to wonder whether those, too, had some hidden message or symbolism to them.

“I didn’t know,” he said as he turned to look at Griffin. He hadn’t wanted to admit he hadn’t been the one behind the idea for the bouquet’s composition but he was certain she’d deduced as much already. She was observant on a good day, and this one had been going so well. Or at least the evening had.

“It’s okay,” Griffin said as she stepped closer, her body almost pressed in his as if to reassure him he hadn’t managed to put space between them with his failure and her hand over his heart as she looked to keep it safe from disappointment like he hadn’t managed with hers and had left her to do on her own. And as if that was not enough to short-circuit his system, she was lifting herself on her toes–flat shoes left her a bit shorter than she needed to be to reach his face–to kiss his cheek again.

He turned his head to catch her lips in his since he was more used to that–even if it felt different with her when he was willing to call it a show of affection–and it was less likely to make him block.

Griffin moaned a short protest before her tongue was tangling with his and after a short debate between the two, he surrendered to the insistence in her caresses and let her lead. Her hands were clutching at his shirt and pulling him down to her so that their bodies were pressed together hard just like their mouths and he held on, wrapping her just as tightly in his arms. There was no force to the kiss yet their teeth clashed a few times from that same passion that had burned so brightly in her eyes while she’d watched the stars that the gold could have rivaled them and the same initiative that had entranced him when she’d made her way on top of him and found the right rhythm and angle to get them both to their release. All he could do was breathe it all in and let it touch his soul while his hands were all over her body for that physical contact they both seemed to appreciate as she pushed herself even more into him. She almost sent him falling back, offering playful nips to his bottom lip that served both as an apology and a way to keep him in place between her teeth.

He stayed close when they pulled apart, knowing she would allow it, yet his pulse still quickened as her mouth remained just an inch away and her breath was still rushing in his lungs.

“I’ve got you something else, too,” he said, his voice quiet because she was so near, not because of the trepidation that had filled him when he’d been holding the flowers. They hadn’t chased her away and he’d live through his poor choice of a second gift if it came to that.

“Well, too bad since I’ve only gotten you one thing,” Griffin said, the space she let between them as she pulled away startling him.

It took him a moment to realize she’d simply stepped back on her heels. He’d completely forgotten she’d been up on her toes and only now let her go so that she wouldn't strain herself anymore because of him. There was distance between them already anyway.

“And what do you call dinner?” he asked, knowing that was not the gift she was talking about. Just like it should have dawned on him she would get him something as well, yet he was still surprised, her objection the only thing keeping him into the conversation when he wanted to kiss her again even if she’d proven him so wrong for having all those concerns. Because of that, really, as he would love being wrong if it meant she was right there, next to him and holding his hand.

“I call it dinner,” Griffin said, the firmness of that no-nonsense tone she had sneaking into her voice. She wasn’t having any of his reasoning just like she hadn’t had it that time he’d tried to justify his lack of interest in pursuing his artistic talent when he’d revealed it accidentally at the art exhibition they’d visited after the New Year celebrations had ended and everything'd reopened.

“A dinner I wouldn't have had if not for you,” he insisted. “It’s a gift.” It was more care than anyone had shown him and he could get lost in his appreciation but he couldn't risk even a second when that would be enough for her to take the word back and as much as he loved hearing her voice and her mind, she was wrong this time. “You can share your gift with me if your next argument will be that dinner is not only for me.”

Her first instinct was to protest but she caught herself before she’d bitten into him, which he was grateful for in the current context. He hadn’t minded it that much in the bedroom, though, but he was getting way ahead of himself. Dinner was the only thing that mattered now. Dinner and Griffin’s comfort.

“What did you get me?” she asked instead of carrying on with the argument and her tone had mellowed out some. Maybe due to his–seemingly correct–guess of her thought process. Either way it was good to hear it, and especially good to think she was okay with him reading her mind, that she was okay with the closeness that was required for that. They’d spent hours every time they’d gone out just talking to each other so when they’d finally made their way to bed, it had been like a familiar dance with a trusted partner.

He smiled before moving over to the cupboard where he’d put the chocolates. It wasn’t an original gift but he’d thought she’d like them considering that sweet tooth of hers. Perhaps store-bought sweets weren’t as good as her homemade ones but they were chocolate and he’d never seen anyone refuse that, though that might have been just the fact that he’d grown up in the foster system where getting your hands on chocolate was like snatching a piece of heaven itself. Then again, she wasn’t like anyone he’d known before, as proven by their very conversation.

“Didn’t know which ones were your favorite so I went with my gut,” he said to fill the silence that was too heavy on his stretched nerves and threatened to snap them as he waited for a reaction after handing her the box.

He’d wanted to get her the best quality chocolates he could find to thank her for making his life sweeter in the short time she’d been in it, as cheesy as that sounded. However, the argument they’d had when he’d taken her to the cinema and she’d almost bitten his head off for paying so much for tickets instead of just going to another screening haunted him and had kept his hands away from the truly expensive brands. He’d gotten something that was just above the reasonable price as that had seemed like a good compromise. Hopefully, she would agree, too.

“Okay.” Griffin barely looked at the box, her attention was him. “I will take them,” she said. “From you,” she held his gaze to make sure the implication didn’t get lost.

He was quick to open the box that he’d already unwrapped in his thought–or was it hope?–that they’d find themselves in the current situation and fed a chocolate to her.

Griffin leaned in to take it, her precision keeping her lips away from his fingers as she held the chocolate between her teeth and waited for him to release it. He could almost swear he saw a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth while she chewed. She could probably tell his only thought was of her teeth in him like she’d teased with during their kiss.

“That was not what I meant,” Griffin said, her tongue darting out over her lip to occupy his attention and let her speak again while his mind was on pause. “I would let you have a taste but that will get us sidetracked,” Griffin teased, effectively showing she would like to join him where his thoughts had treaded while also holding on to her rationality and denying him the indulgence he couldn't deny himself when he’d always been all about instant gratification.

“Then what did you have in mind?” he asked as he tried not to clutch the box hard enough to crush it or have the chocolates shaken out of it and on the floor–they would both be displeased with the waste even if for different reasons–the impulse to nibble on his own lip and replicate the memory poking at his brain harder to resist.

“I think that will have to wait until after dinner,” Griffin said, again joining him in his want while also staying separated from it and she held him in the dissonance between the two like it was the easiest thing in the world to capture yourself the king of the jungle. “Can’t eat dessert before the main course,” Griffin said and he could definitely disagree, in the context of food especially, but she was already walking towards the paper bag and the energy seemed to bubble off of her so he focused on the culinary masterpieces she was probably about to present. “I have yet to give you your gift,” she said, her voice somewhat unstable as if the ground on which she stood was shaking and she was trying to keep it from doing the same. Or was it her nerves that were shaking?

She could have gotten him socks and he would gladly wear them as a reminder of her affection. But of course, she didn’t know that when he’d thought it would just create more tension if not downright tear apart what they had currently.

“I just want to say that I am not an expert on this,” Griffin reached into the bag, her gaze down on it but it looked like she was practicing her shame routine.

He couldn't stand it. Especially after the sight of what she pulled out of the bag.

A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc that was identical to the one he’d gotten. He didn’t even need a closer look to tell they were the exact same. Just like he didn’t need her to tell him her nervousness stemmed from the fact it could also be considered a “shared” gift and in that regard, unsavory to some. To him the opportunity to drink it with her over dinner was the real gift, though. Just the knowledge that she wanted him for more than sex and could enjoy his quiet company even when there were no stars to gaze at in the depths of his soul was enough.

“I’ve noticed you like wine and I tried to match it to dinner. Internet was only so helpful, though, and I thought it best to avoid seeking Ediltrude’s expertise since that would only get me more questions than I could handle so I don’t know how well I succeeded in that. You can always save it for a meal that will go with it if I was wrong in my judgment. And don’t feel obliged to share it with me either even if I’ve managed to get it right. This was always meant as a gift for you.”

She was rambling. He’d never seen her ramble, not even when she’d been in a police station in the middle of the night and looking after a girl that was not her own. That gift had gotten under her skin and as touching as it was to see her so concerned with getting him something right, he couldn't look at her like that.

He made his way to her and took her by the elbow to keep her steady, “Griffin.”

She trailed off mid-sentence misinterpreting his interruption–and wasn’t it curious how easy it was to do that when your mind was all wrapped up in itself?–and bit her lip as if to stop giving him more reasons to be upset with her when there weren’t any. She wasn’t convinced in that, though, if her refusal to look at him said anything.

He gently tipped her chin up as he cupped her cheek with his free hand relieved to feel no resistance and kissed her letting her lips latch on to his to draw the reassurance she needed but keeping the pace slow, which she allowed as she let him lead, too insecure to do that herself or trusting him enough to let him decide for her. Perhaps a bit of both, but he was just glad he got to convince her everything was all right as he let her have all the softness of his lips.

He had to be the one to pull away even though she was just as out of breath as he was. She still seemed to mourn the contact of his lips, or at least the distraction they had offered from the spiraling thoughts in her head.

“It’s a great gift, Griffin,” he said as he wrested the bottle from her fingers–she didn’t try to stop him even if her hands did not open immediately–to save them all from the death grip she was holding it in. Though, he suspected that was more an attempt not to drop it now that the kiss had made her head spin. “I will save it for Saturday, though, because I happen to have bought the exact same wine and mine is already chilling in the fridge.” He would have opened the door to show her but he thought it best to stay by her side.

“I can make us something with veggies again then,” she was quick to offer and he was glad to see she was returning to her senses encouraged by the fact that they’d chosen the same wine. Just like he was.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

There was nothing more to say on that topic when he knew she’d come to his apartment again to grace him with her lovely company and her delicious cooking and he couldn't be more grateful. Dinners with her had been the highlight of his week–and he couldn't complain he had nothing else going on in his life when his friends were there to make it feel fuller than before–but this one was the best. Maybe it was her homemade food or her presence in his apartment, but there was just something magical in that evening. Even with the date hanging between them like a piñata they were trying to avoid breaking as the insides could turn out to be very bitter and ruin their dinner.

It was going so well despite having to put the desserts she’d made in the freezer for Saturday as she joked they’d get sugar poisoning if they also ate those on top of the chocolates he’d bought for her. He taught her the basics to wine and the other types of alcohol they branched out to and she explained to him how bouquets worked–he still wasn’t over the naked-lady lilies–even though they’d agreed he would stay away from those in the future. It was like a chess party in which they were learning how to be better instead of competing for the victory and that came so naturally with her. He was already enough for her as he was and he didn’t have to try to show himself as better than she thought him to be. It could make him cry if he dwelt on it too long but, in a way, it was a day of avoidance so it wouldn't be misplaced to do that.

Griffin was already bothered enough by his past every time he failed to shove its head down before she’d noticed it peeking at them, though it could be his refusal to share it with her that had her so concerned. She’d even poked at it right after the main course and before she’d stashed away the desserts when he’d mentioned her dishes surprised him even if he could afford to go to a restaurant now, and a high-end one at that.

That last part had slipped out unbidden in his fascination with her cooking and had almost managed to spoil dinner. While he did appreciate her willingness to listen, it was something he couldn't make use of without matching inclination to talk that he lacked. There was that one side of him that he didn’t want her to know when he would've gladly erased it if he could with how pathetic and craving it was. Not a combination he wanted her to see from him.

Luckily, she let him bait her towards the bedroom with the chocolates. She made him close his eyes and let him bite off half of the chocolate she was holding between her lips fulfilling her promise of letting him have a taste. At least in one sense.

There was hope for more as he broke out a blindfold to let her continue her tantalizing game by eliminating the factor of his self-restraint. He would peek if he could which was exactly what convinced him he’d need precautions to keep him from moving if he were to follow her wishes and stay still while she worked. Looked like he’d need the handcuffs, too. Maybe even two pairs, depending on how she’d like to tie him up.

“You would trust me to have you handcuffed?” Griffin asked, her voice trying to shy away in a whisper as if to hide how much that meant to her.

“Yes, I would,” Valtor said, deciding to spare her the information that he’d let a few of his other partners handcuff him as well when that hadn’t really been trust as much as... well, horniness for that particular scenario. Though, he had a feeling that would be what would upset her truly since she was right that you couldn't just trust anyone to let them handcuff you to a bed. He should know that as a lawyer, and he did, yet it hadn’t stopped him from bending under his carnality.

With her it was different, however. Just like he’d said since he wouldn't allow himself to lie to her and chase her away with his dishonesty. It was what made it so hard to evade the topic of his childhood when he couldn't tell her anything but the truth. And he couldn't tell her that either.

“We should find a place for the keys to make sure we won’t lose them,” she said now that he’d put her question to rest only to raise one in his mind. Perhaps she’d had some bondage-with-handcuffs adventures of her own if she was so meticulous about the procedure. “Maybe it would be best if they just stay in your drawer,” she mused and her gaze moving to said drawer was enough to have his heart racing in an unpleasant way again.

“I think hanging them on the bottle of wine will be a fun idea,” he offered an alternative that, hopefully, sounded like an opportunity for mischief rather than a desperate attempt to divert her attention. “Even if it’s in the fridge.” It would give her an excellent means to mess with him if she were to drop the chilled metal on his skin before uncuffing him.

“I doubt your sex drawer can shock me that much,” Griffin saw right through him after she’d had the entirety of dinner to get back to her logical self again and he had to admit it was hot even as it worked against him. Maybe even because of that.

“I think it would be best if we were to break out the toys one by one,” he said once it became clear she wasn’t annoyed by his secrecy. “We wouldn't want one of us to get overwhelmed,” he tried as he was sure she would gladly have her way with him if he were to offer it. Which he was doing right now but if he gave her access to his whole array of sex toys, it could get a bit too much for him.

The wicked glint in Griffin’s eyes suggested that that was exactly what she wanted which was just a confirmation of his concerns when the change in her was already making him weak in the knees.

“Well, I don’t know how often we’ll get to use them so you might want to pick up the pace with the introductions,” Griffin leaned in close enough for him to kiss the mischievous smile off her lips and he would have if he could remember how to move.

Currently, he was too stunned to react which gave her the perfect opportunity to pounce on him and he was cuffed to the bed in no time. The keys ended up on his coat rack in the corridor even though they belonged there far less than the clothes she stripped off of him to let him squirm in his nakedness and the darkness the blindfold provided while she took care of the details. Namely, her own clothes–he could hear their rustling while she took them off and all it did was make him regret the idea of the blindfold, his fingers curling with the yearning to touch–and arranging the chocolates on his body in just another way to bind him when the handcuffs didn’t really take away his ability to thrash. He would have to keep still if he didn’t want to send all her work to hell so he was the one who ended up there.

Of course, hell was only a sweet torture when it was her that unleashed it upon him as she’d kiss the skin under every chocolate once she was done eating it or would let him take a bite of it as well. Though, that seemed to worry her with the threat of choking it could pose since he could only lift his head up so much without disturbing the chocolate map she’d drawn on him. She didn’t have a problem with biting him whenever she mistook him for the treats he’d gotten for her and he did his best to gather his mind enough to complain as his charade only made her do it again.

She made her way down his body and to his very hard and very attention-drawing erection that he’d managed to forget about–or at least neglect–when he had her mouth and all the sweet things it was doing to him to focus on. He didn’t have that excuse anymore when she licked at the head of his penis most unexpectedly and had him pushing the last two chocolates off of him when he bucked the moment he was reacquainted with his need. It had taken a backseat to her game but it was rushing back in now that her lips were on it.

His response seemed to please Griffin enough to keep her toying with him as her mouth was all over his erection, kissing and licking to get him to make more noise for her and she even had her teeth teasing at his sensitive skin and ripping his thoughts to shreds even if they never sunk into any part of him.

It was him that sank into the wetness of her mouth when she took the tip of his penis in and sucked on it as if she expected him to melt around her tongue like the chocolate had. He wasn’t too sure he wasn’t melting in the sizzling heat her ministrations wrapped around him. There was so much of her entering his senses even with his sight taken away that he felt engulfed in her presence just the way he’d wanted it ever since she’d left his apartment on Sunday.

Her fingers closing around his erection had about the same effect that she would've accomplished if she’d went directly for squeezing all the air out of him. Sure, she’d stroked him the previous time, too, but coupled with the wet heat of her mouth that he was only tasting now–he wouldn't have let her go down on him last time even if she’d tried when that would have pulled her out of the reach of his kisses–it had him twitching as she drove him towards the edge with the speed of a race car. And while he’d always wanted to try driving one, it just wasn’t the way he wanted to rush through sex with her.

“Griffin, please,” a break to pant was enforced by the want running through his system, “you have to stop.”

The effect was instantaneous. Her mouth released his erection as if he’d slammed the breaks and had been thrown out through the windshield.

“What? Why?” Griffin asked, her hand gone too as if she was afraid of hurting him when the alarm took over her. She was back to the nervous mess she’d been during the crisis with the bottle of wine, or at least on her way there when he hadn’t been more careful.

“I want to be inside you when I come,” he said, no memories of his own doubts about their relationship. She’d erased everything that wasn’t her touch and he could never question that.

“I can always have you coming twice,” Griffin said and he didn’t need to look to know he’d managed to get the smile back on her face. Or rather, the smug grin, which was confirmed by the leisurely strokes of her fingers over his erection.

“You can have me in your mouth again later then,” he quipped back and was rewarded with a shift in the mattress. 

It was the tearing of the wrapper of the condom that broke through the silence and he was pleasantly surprised to learn she’d been prepared by leaving it somewhere she could reach without having to get up. It was certainly flattering to know her need connected her to him and it only got better when he felt her touch as she rolled the condom on before her fingers traced a path up his abdomen and chest, even up his neck, until she reached his mouth. He was just about to close his lips around her fingertip when she withdrew it to wrap her hand around his penis again.

“Can’t say no to such a compelling argument,” she offered slyly, knowing that he wouldn't be in the position to retort as she straddled him and guided his erection inside her. She covered the gasp that left her by capturing his lips again but that was nothing to complain about when he had everything he wanted on that day of festivities.

They never said it, but he knew what they were celebrating. Especially when Griffin offered to stay the night as she reasoned that early in the morning, in the light of dawn, would be safer for her to go home. Of course, he wouldn’t have refused to accompany her there himself with a taxi since the wine was still in his system, but having her wrapped around him instead of just the suffocating coolness of his sheets was a far better way to send off a holiday he hadn’t even bothered to name. Her presence was all he needed from their relationship.


End file.
